


Psmith Ails

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Psmith - Wodehouse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Reading slim volumes of poetry and the collected works of some of our popular female novelists will no doubt cure me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psmith Ails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrai/gifts).



> Originally written for afrai in the 2007 Yuletide challenge.

Another glorious midsummer's day had come to a close as Mike, tanned and pleasantly fatigued after a day's batting with his brother Joe's club, entered Psmith's rooms and found that exquisite supine on the sofa, dressed in sky blue pyjamas and his college blazer, looking pensive and smoking a cigarette. A casual observer might have mistaken Psmith's demeanour for idleness, but Mike, as Psmith's confidential secretary and adviser, could tell at a glance that something grave troubled his friend. He could not, for the moment, think of what it was, but it was true that he had not seen much of Psmith for the past few days; Joe's club was touring the environs around Cambridge, competing in village games, and Joe had good-naturedly invited his younger brother, another star batter in the Jackson family, to play.

With the awkwardness one feels when one becomes aware that a friend has been suffering while one has been enjoying sunshine, smooth wickets, and the satisfying "plonk" of ball on bat, Mike stood and writhed for a moment before he could put his concern in words.

"Hullo!" said Mike.

Psmith, apparently noticing him for the first time, nodded gravely.

"Ah," he sighed, much as Vercingetorix, upon seeing Caesar ride toward Alesia, might have sighed. "Yes, the pale figure you see before you is I. Behind these wan cheeks and creased brow lies the spirit of Psmith, now but a shadow of his former youth and vigour. Word goes 'round, 'Psmith ails,' and Society demands answers. Eminent doctors from the Continent puzzled. Crowned heads worried. World teeters."

Mike's concern became alarm, but as in all moments of great emotional distress in his life, he struggled to speak, managing to produce only a curt, "What's the matter?"

Psmith gracefully flicked ash from his cigarette into a small glass ashtray on the floor and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Were I to hazard a guess, I should say that I am in love," he answered.

A contented man, reaching innocently to pluck a daisy, only to be bitten by a hidden viper, could scarcely have been more startled. Mike sank to the arm-chair.

"Oh!" said he.

"Yes," Psmith sighed again, studying the ceiling.

The man, rubbing his bitten hand, will admit that the viper was within his rights to bite him; the viper was no doubt enjoying a light nap when disturbed by the intrusion of fingers. And yet, as pain flares from the bite and surges up his arm, the man cannot help but feel personally aggrieved, and wishing that the viper had kept its bite to itself. So it was with Mike.

He naturally did not like to see his friend suffering, and would do all in his power to banish the cares and troubles from Psmith's life, but the possibility of Psmith falling in love was one trouble Mike was ill prepared to face. Both curious and dreading to know more, he silently squirmed in the arm-chair.

Psmith finished his cigarette and fished from his pyjamas pocket his eye-glass. He polished it with his handkerchief and, sitting up, fixed it to his eye.

"I rally," said he, with the air of one imparting news of the gravest consequence. "A collective sigh of relief is heard 'round the globe. Followed by mad cries of joy." He gazed placidly at Mike with a faint smile. "Come, Comrade Jackson, tell of your recent triumphs, your latest centuries. Omit no detail, however minuscule, for you will bore me not. My ganglions, so recently depressed, now vibrate in anticipation of soaking up every word uttered by England's Favourite Son. You may, at your discretion, sit on the hearth-rug and rest your cheek upon my knee, but I leave the decision entirely up to you."

Mike stared at him and squirmed again, aware that to attempt speech now would bring forth sputters and gurgles of possible interest to the linguist studying primitive communication, but of little use in making himself understood. Psmith regarded him with patient benevolence.

"But, look here," Mike said at last. "What's all this rot about being in love?"

Psmith calmly removed his eye-glass and polished it again. "An ailment said to afflict even the most stalwart. Even Shropshire Psmiths, it would seem, are not immune. Reading slim volumes of poetry and the collected works of some of our popular female novelists will no doubt cure me. But passing lightly over my predicament, come and tell, as they say in the play, 'What news?'"

Mike's reluctance to pass lightly over the topic was surpassed by his reluctance to hear more about the object of Psmith's affections. Who it could be he could not fathom.

"As a matter of fact, there is some news," said Mike. "I've been invited to play with one of the M.C.C. teams touring in America next month."

What a difference a few short hours can make! How the happy news of the morning can turn to bitter ashes by late afternoon. Mike, who could not imagine travelling so far and for so long without Psmith by his side, now felt a measure of resentment at the M.C.C.

"America," murmured Psmith, replacing his eye-glass. "Not altogether a scaly prospect. My pater was expecting me to cool my heels at the family wreck between terms. I fear he shall be crushed by the disappointment. His appetite shall suffer. His friends and acquaintances shall wonder at his tendency to moan occasionally. But these are life's little hardships. He will See It Through. And then we will be back on these shores and light will enter his life once again."

"Wait, dash it. Are you saying that you'll come with me?" asked Mike.

Psmith raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Was there ever any doubt? It has been my life's one wish to visit that young and eager nation. 'America' may have been the first word I uttered in the nursery. Possibly not. But no matter. Where my confidential secretary and adviser goes, so go I."

Mike's mute writhing from emotional disturbances threatened to wear holes in the arm-chair. His greatest wish was that Psmith should accompany him. The joy he'd felt at receiving the M.C.C.'s invitation hovered close, ready to spring.

"Great adventures await us, Comrade Jackson," said Psmith. "Gone are the days of yore when the only excitement to be found was ragging with the charming Comrade Spiller and his mates. When Commerce beckoned us, we answered her call, but though the New Asiatic Bank, so ably run by our little chum Comrade Bickersdyke, holds many attractions for the smart young man, excitement is not one of them. And here," Psmith said, waving a lazy hand, "we find the quiet and industry that best beseems these great halls of learning, but very little in the line of excitement. In short, I think we could do far worse than to wade across the waters and into the arms of a grateful and welcoming America. We shall go hand-in-hand and make merry. We shall befriend Esquimau, cowboy and tycoon alike. Tomorrow I shall slither down to the City and book a first-class cabin on the _Mauretania_."

"But what," said Mike with difficulty, "about you? Won't you be awfully miserable leaving your... your love behind?"

Psmith gazed at him, smiling serenely.

"I shan't be," he said.

In the detective play so popular nowadays there is always a moment in the fourth act when the detective exclaims, "Ah ha!" This signifies his understanding. Life's mysteries, once so perplexing, now sit before him, entirely revealed and explained. This moment was the fourth act, and Mike the detective. Rendered momentarily mute by emotion, he did not exclaim, "Ah ha!" but thoroughly seized by joy, he smiled back.

And so it was that when the _Mauretania_ set sail a few short weeks later, Mike and Psmith stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the railing, facing the ocean and their future adventures.

The End


End file.
